


Three for...

by Raven17



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Brother/Brother Incest, Cock Cages, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Paddling, Punishment, fucking as punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven17/pseuds/Raven17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie needs to be punished after the games against the Islanders and the Rangers.<br/>Jordie takes care of it (him).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three for...

**Author's Note:**

> Assume this is an established relationship (hints are made to that effect in the fic) with discussed limits and kinks. Hand-wave at a safeword if you like. You can assume they have one, but Jamie wouldn't have used it here anyway.
> 
> I don't think I missed anything else that should be in the tags, but feel free to let me know if I did.
> 
> I wrote this not long after the Rangers game, but didn't post it until now. I'm not 100% happy with it, but I'm not sure what other changes I would make to it to make it "better". Not beta-ed. Any mistakes are mine. And obviously the general disclaimers apply--I don't know them, I'm not making any profit off of this, yada yada, so forth and so on.
> 
> And look! This is longer than an extended drabble!

“Clothes off. I want you kneeling at the foot of my bed in fifteen minutes.” Jordie says the second they walk in the door of their shared Dallas apartment.

“Jor—“ Jamie stops as Jordie levels him with a look. He tries again when Jordie turns to head towards the kitchen. “Jordie it’s late.”

“What did I tell you?”

“It’s past midnight, Jordie!”

“That’s another ten.”

Jamie swallows. “With what… Sir?” He studies the carpet between his sneakers.

“You know what this is for.” Jordie answers. It’s enough—Jamie knows. And when Jamie doesn’t move from where he’s seemingly frozen just inside the door, Jordie continues. “Ten minutes. Get moving, Jamie.”

Jamie drops his duffel in his room, strips quickly and rolls his shoulders. He wants nothing more than to go to bed, and sleep off the disaster that has been his last three games, particularly his last game. A minus three. A minor penalty leading to a goal against. A benching for nearly all the third period.

They have off tomorrow, which gives him time to recover enough to be able to play without issue the next game—they’ve done this before, they know exactly what works and they know exactly how much time Jamie needs to be able to play after… pretty much everything, by now.

Jamie retrieves the paddle from the wooden chest Jordie keeps in his room, folds to his knees at the foot of the bed and waits, holding the paddle in his hands.

It’s a wooden paddle, leather on one side and lightly padded underneath. It’s designed for heavy impact without leaving a lot of damage, and is their preferred method of choice for punishment during the season since Jamie can take a fair amount and still recover relatively quickly.

Jordie enters the room not long after Jamie’s dropped to his knees with a bag that holds aftercare necessities. There’s probably a few bottles of Gatorade, some crackers or nuts, arnica gel, along with whatever else Jordie thinks they might need that isn’t readily available in the bedroom.

He lays the bag on the bedside table, and speaks without looking at Jamie. “I’m going to fuck you.”

A chill runs down Jamie’s spine, and he feels his entire body shake at the words.

They’ve done this before. It’s pure punishment. A brutal paddling that will leave Jamie’s ass red and sore, followed by Jordie fucking him while he remains soft, in a cage designed exactly for such a purpose.

Jordie turns and crosses the room to the chest of toys, retrieves a metal cock cage that once fastened, will keep Jamie from getting an erection. “Stand.” He directs. “You may lay the paddle on the bed.”

Jamie does, and links his hands behind his head without being told. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he shivers as Jordie slides the cage over his flaccid cock and fastens it to a ring that’s tight around his balls. “Good boy.” Jordie murmurs, stroking a hand down Jamie’s cheek. “Tell me. Why are you being punished?”

“I…” Jamie stutters once. “I put myself before the team… I took three penalties in the game against the Islanders, and another against the Rangers that led to a goal. I didn’t lead by example… I didn’t stay focused in the games. I was a minus three against the Rangers. I have to be better.”

“What do you think, Jamie? Three for every minor penalty you’ve taken in the last three games, and three for every time you were on the ice for a goal against in the last three games? How many is that?”

“Thirty, Sir.” Jamie swallows. He took five minor penalties, and was a -5.

“And ten for questioning me. Forty.” Jordie picks up the paddle and looks at it closely, turning it in his hands as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “You’re going to count for me.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jamie murmurs.

“Come.” Jordie says, patting his lap, and Jamie folds himself over Jordie’s knees, placing his hands flat on the bed. “Don’t move your hands. It’s another two every time you do.”

Jamie swallows again, and nods. “Yes… Sir.” He manages. His cock is pressed to Jordie’s thigh inside the cage, but he’s decidedly soft, so it’s only slightly uncomfortable.

The first stroke lands without warning, heavy and thudding to the meat of Jamie’s ass. “One.” Jamie counts. By ten, his ass his warm, and Jordie takes a minute to rub his palm all along the pink globes, the slow drag of skin a form of torture all its own. Jamie’s still very much in his “I’m being punished” state of mind though, and he’s not aroused at all.

“Eleven.” Jamie chokes as Jordie gives no warning before the next thumping hit. This one is square on his ass, he can feel it on both cheeks and can feel the vibration from it in his hole and his balls. Twelve through twenty fall in much the same way, perhaps a little more on one cheek than the other, but Jordie keeps things pretty even. There are tears in Jamie’s eyes as he counts the number twenty, and without thinking, he shifts his hands on the blanket, lifting one, re-gripping the duvet.

“That’s two more.” Jordie says quietly.

“Sir.” Jamie acknowledges him, something like shame and disappointment tightening in his chest at not even being able to take his punishment without fucking up, at letting his brother down, at letting his team down. He feels everything acutely, every iota of irritation at the teams they’d faced on the east coast roadie, every bit of frustration at being held scoreless, the shock of being benched, and he shifts and tenses, moves his hands again, fisting them and punching the mattress once with a grunt and a muttered “FUCK.”

“That’s four more. Two more for moving your hands again, and two for cursing.”

Jamie takes a breath and carefully grips the coverlet, pressing his hands into the mattress. “Yes, sir.” So they’re up to forty-six, and they’ve just finished twenty.

Jordie isn’t going lightly.

By thirty, Jamie’s sweating, and his ass is a bright, prickly heat and throbbing. His body is still tense over his brother’s lap, and his voice catches as he counts “…thirty-one…”, and thirty-two brings the first sob from his lips. “Fuck… Jordie please…”

“Two more. Language, Jamie.” Jordie lays a heavy palm over one cheek, rubs lightly and pinches where ass meets thigh, earning a twitch from Jamie. “You know the rules.”

He does. He can cry and beg and ask Jordie to stop (he won’t), but he isn’t allowed to curse while doing so, or it’s another two strokes with whatever he’s being punished with, regardless of whether it’s Jordie’s hand, the paddle, a strop, or a cane.

By forty, Jamie’s shaking under the palm Jordie lay on his back both to steady him and keep him still as his muscles start to relax, and he’s begging Jordie, “…please… no more… stop… hurts, Jordie!” to stop. 

“Eight more, Jamie. Eight more, and it’s over...” Jordie soothes, laying the paddle on the bed to rub his palm over Jamie’s ass. 

Jamie takes a breath at the touch, a reprieve from the bite of the paddle. Even in the midst of punishment, he recognizes how much better he feels—he’s let go of all the emotion that was weighing him down, focusing solely on the punishment, on Jordie administering it. The games seem so long ago already, and Jamie can feel his body is nearly completely lax over Jordie’s lap. He’s not fighting anymore. Not with himself, not with the Rangers, the Islanders, the Devils, or the paddle Jordie wields.

“Ready?” Jordie asks. 

Jamie nods, tears streaming down his face. “Yes, Sir.”

Forty-one is low, close to his thigh, and Jamie flinches, though he goes boneless again quickly. He counts in a whisper between wet breaths, and Jordie doesn’t fault him when his fingers twitch in the coverlet on forty-six.

“Forty-seven.” Jamie murmurs, followed by “Forty-eight.”

Jordie drops the paddle to the floor, and lightly caresses the flaming skin of Jamie’s ass. “Took it so well,” he murmurs, rubbing a little harder, laying a light swat with his hand on one cheek. Jamie twitches, but otherwise doesn’t react. “Took your punishment so well for me.”

Jamie hiccups as Jordie stills his hand, and he can feel Jordie’s erection by his hip. He’s still not interested, the cage almost comfortable around his flaccid dick.

Jordie moves him off of his lap, settles him face-down on the bed and tucks a pillow under his hips. “I’m going to fuck you,” he says, laying a gentle hand on Jamie’s hip. “And when I’m done, this will all be over. The last three games will be gone. Clean slate…”

“Forgiven?” Jamie’s breath hitches.

“Forgiven.” Jordie nods. 

Jamie’s hands fist in the comforter on either side of his head as he feels Jordie’s fingers, cold and slick, sliding between burning ass cheeks to press slow and easy into him. Jordie does the minimal prep, scissors his fingers once or twice, presses a third finger inside, stretches Jamie cursorily, and then withdraws. 

It burns when Jordie presses into him, a continuous slow slide until Jordie’s balls bounce against the curve of Jamie’s abused ass. Jordie’s got one hand on Jamie’s hip, the other on the bed next to Jamie’s shoulder, and he pulls out just a bit before slamming back inside.

The movement rocks Jamie, his caged cock rubbing against the pillow beneath him, and he can feel the cage tighten as his cock starts to take an interest in the proceedings despite the uncomfortable burn and stretch he feels.

Jordie’s next stroke finds his prostate, and Jamie keens as the cage cuts into him, sobs at the pain and the knowledge he can’t get hard, won’t be getting off. He knows it’s punishment, but his cock doesn’t care as Jordie pounds his prostate.

Jordie hauls him onto his knees and fucks him relentlessly, hard and deep, fingers digging into his hips to hold him in position. “That’s it…” Jordie murmurs, folding over Jamie’s back when he comes with a grunt, emptying inside his brother, holding himself deep. “That’s it… just take it… so good for me…”

Jamie’s crying uncontrollably, taking thick, messy breaths that don’t get him nearly enough air as Jordie pulls out. “It’s okay… it’s okay, Jamie… it’s over… it’s over baby…” Jordie murmurs, pressing a kiss into Jamie’s shoulder. “Breathe for me… c’mon…”

Jamie takes a shuddering breath, falls into the mattress when Jordie releases his hold on his hips, lies there bonelessly as Jordie cleans up. He can feel Jordie’s fingers, gentle and cool as they rub arnica gel into his ass, can hear Jordie’s voice through the fog in his brain telling him how well he took his punishment, how proud Jordie is of him.

“Shhh… it’s over, Jamie… it’s okay… it’s over…” Jordie rubs soothing circles on his back when he finishes tending to his ass. Jamie’s still breathing in uneven, wet gasps, making small sounds in the back of his throat that worry Jordie.

“Hurts…” Jamie mewls.

“I know it does, baby…” Jordie gently rolls Jamie to his back. “I know it does… just lie still… …breathe for me, Jamie… it’s okay…”

Jamie chokes back what he knows will be an unheard plea, concentrates on Jordie’s voice, breathes when he tells him to, in and out… in and out.

Jordie moves his hand to rub soothing circles low on Jamie’s belly, just above his confined cock. “Just breathe for me, Jamie… that’s it…” Jordie says softly, encouraging, praising Jamie when he takes a measured breath.

Jamie focuses on breathing, the sound of Jordie’s voice, the reassuring and gentle touch of Jordie’s fingers on his belly. It takes a while, but his sobs eventually fade to soft cries, hitched breaths.

Jordie helps him to sit up, supports him with his body and holds a bottle of Gatorade to his lips. “Drink, Jamie...” He murmurs a litany of praises, “…took it so well… you were so good for me... took your punishment so well…” as Jamie sips at the bottle.

He urges Jamie to finish one bottle of Gatorade, feeds him a few crackers, and settles him in bed. Jamie looks at him through half-lidded eyes, and Jordie cups his cheek, meets his gaze. “You okay?” He asks seriously. 

He knows it’s good for Jamie, knows the punishment sets his head straight, settles him, will help him let go of his bad performances when little else will, and he knows Jamie needs it, needs him to finish it even when he’s begging for it to stop, but he never wants to seriously hurt his brother.

Jamie nods. “Take… it off?” He asks hopefully.

Jordie shakes his head. “You know how this works. Cage comes off tomorrow.” He pushes hair from Jamie’s face. “Go to sleep.”

“Stay?” Jamie asks, reaching a hand from under the covers to take Jordie’s hand.

“You going to be okay…” Jordie motions in the direction of his brother’s dick. “I don’t…”

Jamie nods. “Please.”

Jordie nods, turns the light off before returning to curl up behind his brother in bed. He can feel the heat of Jamie’s ass pressing against him, the way Jamie’s shoulders still tremble and his breath still hitches. “Shhh…” He murmurs. “It’s okay.” He gathers his brother close, holds him in strong arms. “I got you, Jamie… I always got you…”

Jamie hums and presses back, even closer. 

Jordie kisses his shoulder, noses at his neck. “Go to sleep.” He smiles the words into Jamie’s skin.


End file.
